Six Ways to Spoil the Mood
by BlunderbussFishstickz
Summary: Drabble fic full of lemons that weren't quite what they could have been. Experiment in progress, to feature multiple DBZ couples, ranging the spectrum of seriousness to silliness.


**Note: Lemons rarely go sour. Most stories involving fans' favorite couples doing the deed end on a pretty incredible note, but not all sex can be mind-blowing, pass-out-from-the-thrill-of-it, multi-orgasm marathons. So here is-we'll call it a drabble fic, I guess, since each chapter is stand-alone (although I was always under the impression that a drabble was an exact 100 word piece, which this clearly is not)-a tale of embarrassments, interruptions, and general dysfunction. It's about those nights where our favorite couples do not reach that wonderful, post-orgasmic bliss for whatever reasons.** So,** dear reader, I'll let you in on which characters will be featured at the start of the chapter. If something about a particular pair squicks you, that way you know to close your browser before proceeding. Pretty much everything is going to be canonical couples, but there's a humorous yaoi Trunks/Goten bunny hopping around my head, so consider yourself forewarned. Standard disclaimers about not owning anything in here obviously apply.**

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_Part 1: Bulma & Yamcha_

_Very rarely does one run into a three-year fic where it isn't his fault. What if..._

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Yamcha's shirt was the last article of clothing to be discarded on the floor. Bulma shifted underneath him as he made his way down her torso, hungrily kissing her. He paused at all the usual places: paying close attention to her breasts, the flat of her abdomen just above her navel. As he positioned himself between her legs, he nipped gently at her inner thighs. The other women he had been with during the off periods of their on-again-off-again relationship over these years had enjoyed the playful teasing right before he plunged forth with his tongue. Bulma squirmed, clearly appreciating the extended foreplay.

He lay on his stomach, hips pressing his erection into the mattress as he pleasured her. The friction gave him slight relief, suppressing his urge for the time being to climb on top of her and satisfy his own needs. One of her many, admittedly not unsubstantiated, gripes about him around the time of their last break-up had been his selfishness in bed. Sure, he had protested at the time-what man wouldn't-but after some reflection and a handful of one night stands, he had grudgingly begun to realize she may have had a point after all. Now that they were back together, he was determined to prove that he could be a better lover than in the past. Judging by her moans, he felt fairly confident that he was achieving his goal already. Bulma lifted her legs so they were both resting across his shoulders. Through the fog of his own arousal, Yamcha tried to keep a clear enough head to take note of exactly which delicate flicks of his tongue made her dig her heels into his back. Slowly inserting one finger, then a second, he stopped grinding himself against the bed. Much more of that, and he'd embarrass himself. Yamcha pulled himself back up to his knees, fingers still sliding against unbearable wetness. Seamlessly, he slipped them out, biting back a moan of his own as his following thrust buried himself deep inside her.

"Ooh, Vegeta!" Bulma groaned, her own hands gliding over her body, squeezing her breasts.

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?" Yamcha growled, immediately pulling away. He instantly jumped up from the bed. Bulma's legs spun from his shoulders as he stared at her. Her eyes widened, instantly tearing up as she realized what had happened.

"Yamcha, I..."

"I don't even want to hear it," he was already half-dressed, looking under the bed for his other shoe.

"I'm sorry, please stay. I'll explain. It's not like you weren't with other women," Bulma's voice wavered.

"We're done this time," he said, jamming his foot into the retrieved shoe. "Just tell me, why him?"

Bulma regained some of the fire that made her so interesting in the first place, "like that's any of your business!"

Yamcha's face fell. He bolted out the window, flying off as quickly as he could, lest she see him when his facade of anger melted into the true hurt he felt.


End file.
